


Swimming Lesson

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [40]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theron finally teaches Zevran how to swim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swimming Lesson

Theron had expected Zevran to make one of his usual comments about how cold the river was, so the silence as they both stepped into the water was new. Then again, he supposed it was because the blond was more preoccupied with the knowledge that soon the water would be past his waist for once.

“Why did Oghren have to use  _this_ as his dare?” The blond muttered as he stared down at the water that lapped around his calves in something approaching misery.

“Because when you succeed at this, he’ll have to do whatever unpleasant thing you dare him to next?” The Dalish elf suggested, stepping away carefully over the stones and mud on the riverbed beneath them until the water was at his hips. He paused when he realised Zevran wasn’t following him, and turned back.

“You’ve waded out this far before to bathe.” Theron pointed out dryly. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of getting your hair wet?” He added with a smirk, and Zevran frowned at him.

“Of course not.” The Antivan replied, stepping closer with an air of his usual confidence until his foot slipped down a hidden rock and made him stumble forwards; Theron caught him around the arms before he could very inelegantly fall face-first under the surface.

“Clearly.” Theron sighed, tilting his head so he could see the wide-eyed look on Zevran’s face, feel the way the blond’s nails were digging ever so slightly into the skin just below his bent elbows.

Zevran cleared his throat awkwardly and regained his balance, standing up straight. He was just glad that Oghren was already snoring away in the afternoon sun on the bank behind them, and that the others weren’t interested enough in the minor, but slowly escalating war of dares going on between the two resident elves and dwarf to pay attention to just what half the dares were. So, judging from the constant sound of Oghren’s snores, the two elves were practically alone for now.

The water was up to their waists now, but Theron glanced back over one shoulder at the rest of the river.

“Stay here, I’ll check how deep it goes.” The black-haired elf advised, gently pulling away from Zevran and continuing to carefully walk forwards, shivering despite himself as the water crept up his stomach, to halfway up his ribs. Theron paused then, before he took a deep breath and disappeared under the water with a heavy splash, legs flicking up briefly and then cutting down into the water, gliding away like a fish.

Zevran tried not to hold his breath in worried sympathy, and instead looked around for any sign of the other elf’s imminent resurface. Suddenly Theron broke through the water with a loud gasp, a good distance from where he’d dived and slightly upstream. He flung his head back, braids spraying water in a glittering arc as he filled his lungs and wiped water from his eyes. When he swum back it was on the surface and his front, moving his arms in slow, lazy strokes as he let the slow current carry him back.

“It’s not too deep.” Theron reported as he stood up again, hair still dripping onto his shoulders and down his back, grey eyes bright as he looked at Zevran. “Come on.” He added, carefully taking the former Crow’s hand and starting to lead him forwards. Zevran followed slowly, hoping his reluctance could be conveyed through that rather than having to say it aloud.

He was glad when Theron stopped before the water rose higher than their stomachs.

“Nervous?” The ranger guessed when Zevran still remained quiet.

“A little.” The Antivan replied slowly.

“If it’s any comfort, I highly doubt Oghren can swim either.”

Zevran snorted, for a moment forgetting they were both half-submerged in a cold river.

“He would sink like a stone. That beard would weigh him down.” He agreed, glancing back at the snoring lump thoughtfully. “You know, we could dare him to cut off his beard?”

Theron smirked.

“He’d probably kill us both if you even suggested it. Now, lie on your back.”

“What?” Zevran asked, whipping his head back to look at Theron. The ranger blinked at him slowly, patiently.

“Lie on your back. If you lie on your front, you won’t be able to breathe. I’ll keep ahold of you.” He explained, moving so he was between Zevran and the gentle downstream pull of the current. Zevran eyed him warily, but did as asked, leaning back and trying not to gasp when his feet left the riverbed and the water embraced his back. He was floating? His muscles tensed, body automatically wanting to right itself and feel solid ground beneath his feet. Theron’s hand on the Antivan’s back kept him still, reassured enough to try and lie there.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were using some of your ranger tricks on me right now.” Zevran muttered suspiciously as he looked up at the other elf, neck starting to ache from keeping his head and ears out of the water. The noncommittal hum of a response made him seriously wonder.

“How does it feel?” Theron asked, returning the subject to the present.

“Cold.” Zevran shrugged as best he could. _Strange, as well._

“Can you try kicking your legs, like I do?”

The Antivan paused, trying to recall just how Theron used his legs while he swam. He seemed to stretch them out, and kick more from his calves than his actual feet. Zevran looked down at his own legs, gleaming wetly in the sun, and wondered if that lithe grace was even something he could imitate. This was certainly not a fight. He tried anyway, and was rewarded with rather ineffective splashing.

The ranger smiled at him encouragingly, so perhaps it wasn’t too bad.

Zevran’s neck was still aching, but he ignored the pain out of habit until he felt a wet hand against the back of his head.

“Lean back.” Theron murmured, gently lowering the Antivan’s head until his hair was soaked and the water was just beneath his ears before he removed his hand again, resting it on the blond's shoulder. That done, Zevran stared up at the sky and listened to Oghren’s snoring from the bank as he focused on kicking rather than splashing.

He would have tried to keep going until he either tired or mastered kicking, but after a while Theron began to shiver, and eventually declared the lesson a success.

“Do you want to keep learning how to swim?” The Dalish elf asked as the two waded and dripped their way back to shallower water, and Zevran chuckled.

“Surprisingly, not anytime soon. I am not sure why you enjoy it so much.” He answered, gladly stepping out onto dry land and passing Theron one of the towels they'd brought with them. “But for now I think I’ll devote my energy to thinking up an equally challenging dare for our charming dwarven companion here.” He mused as they dried themselves and redressed quickly. “Perhaps a day of sobriety, no?”

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Theron, Zevran and Oghren getting somehow embroiled in an escalating dare war with each other is amusing.


End file.
